Chapter Three
The first time I got a point on my witch licence wasn’t just because I’d cast a forbidden spell to remove Everly Catacomb’s fangs. It was also because I couldn’t bring her fangs back.
I had stared for what felt like hours at Everly’s regular, non-pointy teeth, tears wet on my cheeks, as I said the counterspell and repeated the finger movements, trying to get my magic to do something. But after several tries, nothing happened. I simply couldn’t focus my magic on Everly again.
In the end, Rani – my older sister – had to step in and do the spell.
Everly’s parents had reported me to the Coven; hours later, I had a small ‘x’ on my licence.
After that, my fear of spellcasting was born.
Every time I tried to cast a spell, the memory of my mother’s disappointed face would unearth itself.
When it came to baking magic, I could let my thoughts shift, and my focus locked on to the recipe, not the magic.
Culinary magic was maybe the only thing I had going for me.
That’s why it simply wasn’t possible that my cookies could have caused this mess.
Sure, there was a chance I might have cast the soulmate spell incorrectly, but, crucially, nothing had happened to me last night and I’d eaten several of the cookies.
There was no delayed reaction, no sudden burst of love in my heart. I was still completely myself.
‘No, it can’t be,’ I said, confidently, arms folded over my chest. ‘I ate them last night, and nothing like this happened.’
‘You still only like Silas then?’ Raven probed, her gaze running over me like I was hiding another secret crush in the pockets of my jeans.
‘Yep, and I certainly don’t feel the need to publicly declare my undying love for him,’ I scoffed.
Raven sighed with relief. ‘Good, like you always have.’
I made a humming noise in the back of my throat that wasn’t total agreement.
I didn’t lie to Raven – we never lied to one another.
But I didn’t correct her now either. Raven didn’t know how for one brief moment, last summer, my crush on Silas had slightly waned.
All she knew was that we didn’t talk about last summer because that’s when I got the second point on my licence – the deeper whys and whos were a little vaguer.
The Reverie household, also dubbed the mayor’s home, sat conveniently at the edge of Main Street; and, truthfully, it was one of the only reasons I was happy about my mum’s job.
The farm-style house had these sage-green walls, a big white porch, a sun-dappled gable roof and a stone chimney that puffed out purple smoke in the winter.
It was beautiful and, thankfully, very empty when I arrived home.
Except for Jinx.
Our black cat was lounging in his usual place: the armchair in the living room.
He barely raised his head to look at me, which was expected.
Jinx and I have never quite gotten along.
He always preferred cuddling up to Rani or Mum over me.
I wasn’t jealous; the feeling was mutual.
It wasn’t like I was the one who’d begged my mother for a cat in the first place.
I slipped off my shoes and then dragged myself up the stairs to my bedroom, locking the door behind me.
After Main Street had emptied and the cursed townspeople were guided to their homes under Chief Inspector Hawthorne’s instruction, Raven and I spent the rest of the day helping with clean-up.
Now all I wanted to do was collapse on to my bed and take a nap.
But, of course, just as I was falling asleep, I heard the door to the house open.
‘Maya!’ Mum called from downstairs. ‘Would you please come down?’
My mother’s voice was sugar-sweet, almost too sweet. After years of being her daughter, I was attuned to the undertone to her voice; the sharp edge that said, ‘Get down here right now.’ I heard alarm bells ringing in my head as I quickly headed downstairs; keeping Mum waiting was never a good idea.
When one looked at my mother, or me, or Rani, you’d see different versions of the same person – same light-brown colouring, same dark eyes, same heart-shaped face, same curly hair.
But Rani was the grungier one, with her oversized T-shirts and purple lipstick.
Mum was preppy, always dressed to the nines in an enchanted blazer that changed colours and fabrics depending on the weather.
And me? Well, I’ve always been a clutter. A mix of fashion choices depending on seasons and feelings. Like a scrapbook, maybe.
Or a disaster waiting to happen.
I ignored the whisper of my familiar inner voice by focusing on my mother, who looked like she’d been through an ordeal today.
What was more concerning was the presence of the Coven, standing behind my mother.
Five senior witches, some older, some younger, all stood in a huddle.
Usually they all wore matching green cloaks, but someone had the closet door open and was hanging up the garments.
Every magical town has their own coven; it’s been Rani’s wish to be a member since we were kids, but it’s been my wish to avoid ever having to see them after I got the last point on my licence.
Obviously, not all wishes come true.
‘Mum,’ I said, before shooting a smile over her shoulder. ‘Elders.’
The Coven didn’t smile back – well, except Elder Sabrina. She wasn’t really an Elder – she was probably only around thirty and had always been the most lenient when it came to my mistakes, though even she couldn’t show me much sympathy for my second point.
Not that I could blame her. Finding out a then sixteen-year-old was casting a forbidden spell on herself isn’t something she could just ignore. I get that. I’m reasonable, you see.
The person hanging the cloaks up finally stepped out of the closet, and my gaze slid to them.
I felt my body still, hand curling tightly around the staircase railing. When our eyes met, my heart started to beat furiously.
‘Maya, Orion’s kindly helping the Coven with our, uh, issue in town,’ Mum said, gesturing to Raven’s older brother like it was nothing. ‘He’s graduated early from MAC, with his degree in Curses and Incantations, and just got back into town. Isn’t that perfect timing?’
This was the exact opposite of perfect.
I met Orion the first time I went over to my, at the time, new friend Raven’s house. We were seven and had finally worn down our mothers enough to get a play-date. When I went to the Hawthornes’ house, I’d met Raven’s mum, Chief Inspector Hawthorne and, of course, her nine-year-old brother, Orion.
He was the most serious nine-year-old I’d ever seen.
He barely spoke, wore a perpetual frown and left all the crusts on his peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich.
At first, I was sure that I would never be his friend.
But, eventually, even Orion couldn’t ignore the lure of a good game of hide-and-seek, or pirates and mermaids, or any one of the other games his sister and I had played in their backyard.
The three of us quickly became a little trio, and wherever Raven and I were, Orion was right behind us.
That was until he’d turned fourteen and things unexpectedly changed.
He stopped hanging out with us and never bothered coming down from his room when I came over.
He took to ignoring us at school, falling in with a new (read: cooler) group of friends.
And worst of all, developed a deeply annoying habit – snitching.
It’s like he’d woken up one day and decided to become nothing more than Raven’s overprotective older brother – the one we always had to dodge if we didn’t want to get caught sneaking out, or back in, late. He’d become unbearable and we barely exchanged a word for years.
Until last summer.
My brief break from crushing on Silas? Yes, it was because I’d developed some weird infatuation with Orion instead. An infliction I’d been quickly cured from when he’d been the one to turn me into the Coven for my second licence point. Still, it was a secret I was willing to take to the grave.
‘Hawthorne,’ I greeted him, trying for a smile but merely ended up gritting my teeth.
‘Reverie,’ Orion replied, and there was a thrum of something in his voice.
He looked the same – dressed in the dragon-scale leather jacket he got for his eighteenth birthday, a black T-shirt and worn-in blue jeans – and different all at the same time.
Maybe it was his hair. Growing up, his dark waves had been a little longer, but now they looked tamed.
‘Are you and my sister staying out of trouble?’
‘The best we can,’ I shot back glibly.
That annoying edge of Orion’s mouth twitched again. I knew that smile was waiting to come. I hated that smile.
The memory of that summer and all the feelings I’d been working so hard to keep at bay for the last year came crashing back through me. I felt my hands clench around the staircase banister, and Orion’s eyes glanced at the movement. But his expression didn’t change.
His complete control over himself irritated me even more.
‘Darling, could you bring us some cups of tea and biscuits?’ Mum asked without even looking at me, too busy leading the dragon shifter to our living room. ‘Orion, we can talk in here.’
I watched as the Elders, Orion and my mother went to the living room, my stomach seething with anger.
In the kitchen, I considered taking out the kiwi tarts from the Wishing Well Bakery, but I knew Orion was allergic and – despite wanting to hex him – casual murder in our living room likely wasn’t going to go down well with my mother.
Once everything was arranged, I carried the tray into the living room. The Elders were sitting on the sofa – four of them in a line. Mum was in her usual armchair, and Orion was sitting on the one opposite with Jinx wrapped around his forearm.
‘So, as you can see, the town is clearly cursed,’ Mum continued while I poured the tea into the cups. I kneeled by the low coffee table, preferring not to hunch awkwardly.